


Sad Cypress

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of his life, Faramir had been playing second fiddle to his elder brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Cypress

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the amnesty challenge on fan flashworks. Title borrowed from the namesake novel by Agatha Christie; all dialogue is borrowed from the same novel too.

All of his life, Faramir had been playing second fiddle to his elder brother. Not that he actually minded; Boromir was very dear to him, for their mother had died young and their father had withdrawn into himself ever since.

One of his earliest memories was the funeral procession to Rath Dínen, where Finduilas was going to rest in peace until the world was changed; he was just five years old back then, but he still remembered the grim look on Denethor's face as he walked slowly after the bier. That was the first time he'd seen Boromir cry, and it had scared him; his brother never cried, while he'd been too young to fully understand the fact that he was never going to see his mother again.

Boromir was all that he would never be: fearless, daring, and their father's favorite. It wasn't that Faramir lacked courage and strength when needed; but he didn't enjoy fighting, and the gentle nature he'd inherited from his mother moved him rather to pity and understanding.

In time he'd learned to live with his father's disappointment; and even though it still hurt, that didn't stop him from taking decisions after his own judgment.

The news of Boromir's untimely death had saddened him deeply, but once again he wasn't allowed to share his father's grief. The Lord Denethor had been robbed of his beloved son, that was true; but Faramir had lost his dearest brother, and he was well aware that he just couldn't take his place in their father's heart.

Nothing he did was ever going to please him, no matter how hard he tried.

 

* * *

 

The one thing that Faramir had inherited from his father was the ability to read the hearts of men.

At first he had marveled at Mithrandir's decision to trust two little hobbits with the Ring of Power, but in the end he came to recognize the wizard's wisdom in that as in many other matters. Frodo Baggins was far braver than he deemed himself, and Samwise Gamgee was the most faithful companion that could ever be.

Once more he trusted his own judgment and let them go to their fate. He was well aware that that wasn't what the Lord Denethor would have wanted, but deep in his heart he knew that there were perils from which a man simply had to flee.

There lay the difference between him and his brother, who had yielded to the temptation to try and take the Enemy's Ring; and while Boromir had redeemed himself with an honorable death in battle, he feared that the Thing would be the downfall of Gondor if it were to be taken to Minas Tirith.

They had both gone down long dark roads when he and Frodo finally met again; they sat by a wall in the sun as promised, telling their tales of sorrow and long endurance.

It was a strange fate that they all owed their freedom to that creature, Gollum; if it weren't for him the quest would have been vain right at its bitter end, and Faramir could tell that the hobbit blamed himself for that. And yet there was nothing to be blamed, for no one else would have managed to bear the evilness of the Ring for such a long and hopeless journey.

 

* * *

 

Had he lived, Boromir would have probably taken no wife; he'd never cared for women, taking his delight in weapons and battles instead.

There had be no woman in Faramir's life either, but that was only because of the evil times he'd been living in. However, he fell in love with the Lady Éowyn as soon as he saw her, her beauty and sorrow piercing his heart like a knife.

He could tell that her heart belonged to another man, and he knew he could in no way compete with the Lord Aragorn; for he was a king while Faramir was not, and yet he still wished he was able to take her pain away.

"She needs you," her brother Éomer told him the night after King Théoden's funeral.

"Not as she needs him," he countered quietly.

Éomer shook his head. "She never needed King Aragorn. She loved him, yes, unhappily; even desperately."

A sad smile touched Faramir's lips. "She will never love me like that."

"Perhaps not. But she needs you, my friend, because it is only with you that she can begin the world again."

He felt the other man's hand rest on his shoulder. "Can you not accept facts? She loved the Lord Aragorn. What of it? With you, she can be happy."

Curiously enough those very same words echoed in his mind on his wedding night, as he undid the ties of Éowyn's dress and kissed the pale skin of her neck. She shivered under his touch, but there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes when she captured his lips at last; and in that moment he knew.

For the first time in his life, he wasn't going to be second best to someone else.


End file.
